The Astro District was alive.
A chaotic harmony of neon lights, blaring club music, drunken chants, and the electric scent of perfume and street food danced across the summer air. Police patrolled every other corner, but even they were smiling — as if infected by the wild festival energy of the night.
Raizen and Ryo stood at the district entrance like two clueless tourists dressed to party. Raizen wore a black button-down left half-unbuttoned, showing a glimpse of his bruised chest and a silver chain necklace. Ryo, beside him, looked like a lost accountant who accidentally wandered into a rave.
"This," Raizen muttered under his breath, his eyes glowing faintly, "this is exactly what I need."
The streets were crowded with laughter and sin. Women in crop tops and skirts stumbled between booths. Some danced on benches while holding beer. A few couples were already pressed against alley walls, too drunk to care about public decency.
Here's a refined version of that passage:
From every flirt, grope, and smirk, faint wisps of lust energy floated into the air—weak, but plentiful.
Still, nothing beat lust that was directed at him. That was the purest. The strongest.
Raizen walked slowly, his body unconsciously absorbing the atmosphere like a starving man inhaling the scent of food.
Lust energy — his lifeline. His cultivation fuel. His soul's only nutrition in this decaying mortal shell.
The stronger the desire…
The higher the quality of the woman…
The more numerous the sources…
All of it shaped the potency of his cultivation.
And right now? He was feeding off the trash. Junk food lust. But it was better than nothing.
He glanced at Ryo beside him, who was already nervously clutching his bag. "Ryo," he smirked, "from now on… take notes. This is what field research looks like."
"W-wait, research on what?"
Raizen was obviously talking about getting girls.
Raizen didn't answer. His eyes had already locked on his first target — a woman swaying near a lamp post, obviously drunk, possibly waiting for a friend.
Perfect.
He cracked his neck, strutted over with fake confidence, and opened his mouth—
"Hey gorgeous, are you—"
"Ew, go away."
He flinched.
Attempt #1 — Failure.
He tried again. This time with a different drunk girl leaning against a wall.
"Excuse me, is this seat—"
"I have a boyfriend."
Attempt #2 — Brutal failure.
He tried a third one, a fourth, a fifth. He even flirted with a girl who was eating skewers and said—
"You know… if you were food, you'd be fiiine dining—"
She sprayed beer from her mouth and pointed at him while laughing with her friends. "Who let this guy out of his cave!?"
Raizen dragged himself back to Ryo, slumping beside a taco stand. "I need… a drunker girl. These are semi-conscious. Still have standards."
He scanned the crowd again. Then — jackpot.
A group of women stumbled out of a club, one of them tripping on her own heels, clutching her stomach from laughing too hard.
He signaled Ryo with two fingers. "Let's go."
The bar was dimly lit. The air thick with perfume, sweat, and the rhythmic thump of bass. Raizen took a seat at the bar counter. Next to him — a woman with red cheeks, red nose, her head resting sideways on her arms, breathing slowly. Her white latex skirt was practically a second skin. A thigh strap clung to her stocking. Elegant, sexy — and hammered.
He'd seen plenty of beautiful women—but she was uniquely stunning, her looks rivaling even Xuē's flawless face card.
Target locked.
Visual analysis: high beauty, cold aura softened by intoxication. Lust potential: potent.
Approach: gentle. Not creepy. Open strong. Don't be weird.
He coughed.
She didn't look.
He coughed again.
Still nothing.
He leaned slightly closer. "Ahem."
She turned her head without lifting it, almond eyes squinting through a drunken haze. Her cheek was still pressed against her arm, lips pursed. She looked half-asleep. Or half-dead.
Raizen smiled awkwardly.
"Shit. What now? I didn't plan this far. I might fail again."
He panicked.
"Uh… do you… know CPR? Because you just took my breath aw—"
Nothing.
Blank stare. Poker face.
He winced and looked away, scratching his neck. "Sorry. That was lame."
He turned to leave.
But then—
Her finger poked his cheek.
"You're an idiot," she mumbled with a lopsided smirk, "but… kinda funny."
He paused. Slowly turned back.
Her voice was slurred but playful. Her eyes still half-lidded, but… softer.
"I'll take it," he said with a small, hopeful grin. "Not every day I get insulted by a sleeping beauty."
She chuckled lightly. "Mmh… Sleeping beauty got scolded by her irritating father. Failed a business presentation to one of my client, failed projects, think I cried in the hallway for a bit."
"Ah… tragic. Shall I write a ballad in your honor?" he teased, easing into his role.
She giggled.
"You play guitar?"
"No. But I can hum in the shower."
Another chuckle. Her mood softened even more.
"…You're weird," she murmured. "Most guys just sit next to me hoping I black out so they can cop a feel."
Raizen raised his hands. "I'm just here for the tragic poetry and public breakdowns."
She turned her head toward him. "You're kinda cute for a weirdo."
He blinked. Jackpot.
"Thanks. You're… distracting for someone half-dead."
She laughed again, louder this time, then winced. "Ow. My head…"
He sat beside her, carefully. "You okay?"
She nodded lazily. "Yeah… just tired. Tired of school. Tired of pretending I'm fine."
There it was. Vulnerability.
He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.
"Pretending takes energy. Maybe you should save it for something that actually makes you happy."
She looked at him, eyes meeting his for the first time.
"…Like what?"
"Like being honest. Like laughing. Like talking to weird guys who actually listen."
For a moment, she was quiet. Then—
"You talk like a therapist."
"I'm more like a support group with great hair."
She stared at him.
She laughed again. "Did you search up those pickup lines before coming here?"
"Hey, I made you laugh — that's gotta be worth a kiss, right?"
He pointed playfully at her smile.
"Come on, that's it you need to smile more, that smile's too cute to waste."
She was genuinely enjoying their conversation — more than she expected to.
Someone like him wasn't her type. Her parents would scold her to death if they ever found out she was talking to a guy like this — casual, cheeky, not from a good family.
But maybe that was exactly why… she felt tempted.
The thought of doing something reckless for once made her heart race.
And that crooked smile of his — it didn't help.
She leaned in closer, eyes hazy but focused on him.
Screw it.
Then, without warning.
Kissed his cheek.
Soft. Warm. Faintly clumsy.
His heart stopped.
Trap triggered.
All the lust energy he gathered — from failed flirting, awkward encounters, and half-hearted touches — wasn't wasted. He had used it strategically, carefully planting traces of it throughout the most sensitive parts of his body.
His lips. His neck. Even his chest beneath the shirt.
It was a trap.
Not just for anyone — it only activated when touched by someone who already felt desire for him.
A kiss from a woman who found him attractive? That was the trigger.
And once triggered… that stored energy would amplify her desire, multiplying it back onto herself, gently coaxing her lust to the surface.
Her breath hitched.
She blinked.
"…Why'd that feel kinda hot?" she murmured.
He smiled. Carefully. Calmly.
"Because it was," he said, his voice just a little deeper now. "But only because you wanted it to be."
She looked at him — really looked — then leaned forward again.
This time, their lips met.
Slower.
Deeper.
Raizen didn't move too fast. He let her lead.
And her body—warm and drunk—responded with more heat than she realized she had.
He knew it the moment their lips touched—this girl's lust energy was just as potent as Xuē's.
She pulled back, breath shaky.
"…You're trouble."
He grinned. "Only the good kind."